


tumblr request oneshots

by sunflower_8



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Arguing, Complicated Relationships, Depression, Developing Friendships, Dirty Jokes, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Literary References & Allusions, Love Confessions, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Platonic Relationships, Poetic, Recovery, Self-Esteem Issues, Terminal Illnesses, more like failed attempts at comfort tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:40:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 13,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25749784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflower_8/pseuds/sunflower_8
Summary: compilation of some prompt requests i took on my tumblr, fieldofsunflowers8!
Relationships: Chabashira Tenko/Iruma Miu, Enoshima Junko & Komaeda Nagito, Hinata Hajime & Saihara Shuichi, Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito, Hinata Hajime/Kuzuryu Fuyuhiko, Ishimaru Kiyotaka & Komaeda Nagito, Kamukura Izuru/Komaeda Nagito, Kirigiri Kyoko/Naegi Makoto, Komaeda Nagito & Owari Akane, Kuzuryu Fuyuhiko/Soda Kazuichi, Mioda Ibuki/Nanami Chiaki/Owari Akane
Comments: 9
Kudos: 150





	1. [komahina] "how many of these have you eaten?"

**Author's Note:**

> “How many of these things have you eaten?” w/ komahina, requested by anon!

Komaeda’s room is a mess.

On one hand, Hinata can’t really judge him for it. It’s… not like his cabin is any better (and, well, things have been rough lately. Have been rough for a while, ever since… but, that’s obvious, isn’t it?). Hinata’s cabin is a wildfire of miscellaneous papers and vague schematics of repairs and orders that need to get done, mixed with some scattered soda cans here and there. So, he’s not, like, the epitome of neatness.

But… Komaeda has always been really neat, and organized, and all that. Usually, when Hinata comes by, there’s hardly even a sign that the other has been in there, much less slept or showered (which, can be attributed to the fact that Komaeda… doesn’t really like it in there. He spends more time everywhere else than in his cabin). Sometimes, it even feels like Komaeda is slightly judging of Hinata, whenever the two of them end up in his messy cottage. 

(It wouldn’t be the first time Komaeda has judged him, since they woke up,

but. Hinata… really isn’t that much better, sometimes.)

Bottom line: Komaeda is neat, and organized, and everything in his room is usually folded and tucked away. 

Except. When Hinata walks in (on an entirely unordinary day, though his brain supplies plenty of assorted historical events that occurred that day near centuries ago), all he can register is that Komaeda’s room is a mess. 

The bedsheets are kicked off his bed, left tangled on the hardwood floor in some kind of fucked-up pile. There is a teetering stack of books on his nightstand, threatening to fall on the floor with a loud thump (Hinata’s idly worried it will happen– or rather, what would happen as a result. The two of them are both triggered by loud noises, is the thing. He wonders if Komaeda would even care, right now). Aside from that, there are crumpled cans of Blue Ram and one out-of-place bottle of what suspiciously looks like wine, and, to top off the unsettling scene, there are an absurd number of granola bar wrappers everywhere.

In the midst of all the calamity, there is Komaeda, who tilts his head twenty-seven degrees with a bright smile and says, “Hello, Hinata-kun.”

One of the quickest things Hinata had to figure out about Komaeda is that he’s deceptive. That if he doesn’t want you to know something (which, this applies for a lot of things about him), it’s damn near impossible to find out. Perception can only get him so far, persuasion never works, and persistence is utterly useless when done with someone as stubborn as him. And, it’s frustrating, in all honesty, because Hinata… doesn’t like not knowing things. Not anymore.

(But he hates knowing things, too. Hates knowing what’s going on in some people’s heads. It’s cathartic, in the way that challenges are to him and Kamukura, to know that he can’t figure out Komaeda that easily. It’s just… cathartic and frustrating, and he tries to convince himself that it’s just a human reaction.

As if he’s human, anymore.)

Asking about the mess, according to Hinata’s quick predictions, would lead to Komaeda rambling about how unsightly it is, maybe insulting him with the same reserve point a couple of times, and then awkwardly dropping a love confession as a treat (which. Isn’t exactly an annoyance, to Hinata. He just… wishes Komaeda wouldn’t say it as some quick, casual thing. Wishes they could talk about it. Because… well, it’s not exactly like Hinata’s feelings for the other is anything close to platonic). And, all of that, is a headache to both of them.

So, instead, Hinata bluntly asks, “How many of those things have you eaten?”

Komaeda blinks at him, tilts his head a bit more– nine degrees, to be exact– and replies, “Ah, I’m… not sure what you mean?”

“The granola bars,” he elaborates. “The ones with the wrappers scattered around your cottage?”

“Ah.” For a small, ridiculous moment, Hinata is almost convinced that the other just became aware of them. But, Komaeda’s too self-aware for it (too grounded in reality. Too real.), “I’m not certain. I didn’t exactly keep count– though I’m sure Kamukura-kun could come to a number, easily!”

We already have, Hinata debates saying. 

“Well,” he starts. Hesitates. Then continues, “maybe you should. Come with me and get breakfast. In the dining hall, y’know.”

“I do know,” Komaeda helpfully contributes.

… This conversation is going nowhere.

Thankfully, Hinata must seem exceedingly, visibly bad at handling Komaeda today, because the other takes pity on him and adds, “Ah, well. I would be honored to eat with you.”

“Cool.” It’s not worth acknowledging that it’s probably closer to lunch time than breakfast. It’s not like anybody on Jabberwock has a consistent schedule (especially not the two of them. They’re too prone to disappearing. To skipping meals– not on purpose, but just… getting preoccupied. He wonders if Komaeda was preoccupied with something.

… Well. It’s not like he’d ever tell Hinata what it is.)

He sighs, rubs the back of his neck, and pivots towards the door. “C’mon.” Normally, he’d mention something about waiting outside for Komaeda to shower, but he already suspects the other has been up for a while, and the vague scent of raspberry shampoo doesn’t miss him. 

Komaeda, with ease, stands up from his bed and follows. After a few seconds, in which he locks the door behind him and shivers as the slight island breeze, he says, “Thank you.”

Hinata shrugs it off. “No problem.” _There’s no reason to thank me_ , he wants to add, but… he doesn’t want to get into that whole argument with him. 

(… He wishes he understood Komaeda, just a bit more.)


	2. [akane & nagito] "i can only hope they'll like it"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested by anon!

Alright. Here’s the thing.

Akane doesn’t like Komaeda. Sure, she’s shoved some of her resentments down a bit, forgave the fucker and everything, but she still doesn’t like him all that much. It’s not like she sees him around much, anyway, to like… grow on him, or something. He always just hangs out in his room, or is at Hajime’s side all the time. 

Which is cool. If Akane saw him around all the time, she’d kind of want to punch him in the face. Which would be probably well deserved, but Nekomaru still tells her not to do it. 

But. Alright, Akane and Hajime get to talking, once. It’s a lot of bullshit about a lot of things– important things, kinda, but it’s pretty easy for Akane to tune stuff out when Hajime goes all-Kamukura and starts talking about shit she doesn’t really get. But, at some point, it circles around to Hinata bringing up the bastard, mumbling some sorta self-deprecating shit about him nagging Komaeda, how nobody else talks to him, which makes sense but is still just a bit shitty, and…

Akane makes a split second decision, and goes to the MonoMono Machine. 

She fucks around with it a bit, finds something that she kinda likes (or maybe she can give it to Nekomaru, to thank him for being such a good fuckin’ trainer), but she finds something kinda. Spooky looking. It takes her a second to realize it’s a knife, and she really should not trust Komaeda with a knife, because he’s a creepy fucker and he’s hurt people before, but. Fuck it, she’s tired.

As she’s leaving, she runs into Hajime. “Yo, Hajiji!”

“Why do you have a knife, Owari?” Hajime says in a tired voice.

“I’m givin’ it to Komaeda!” she pauses. Then adds, “Is that a shitty idea?”

Hajime blinks. “Uh, maybe? Here,” he fiddles with his pockets for a second, and after a bit, he pulls out a ring. “Maybe. Give him this instead.”

“… A ring?” Scratch that. “Why d’ya have a ring?”

He shrugs. “Kamukura.”

Fair enough. She hands him the knife with a sigh and accepts the ring. “Thanks, dude.”

“No problem.” He stands there for a few seconds. “Uh. Why are you giving him something in the first place?”

She groans, “Didn’t ya tell me to? Like, talkin’ to the bastard or somethin’. I dunno how to have a conversation with him without havin’ta punch him in the face, so I just thought I’d get him somethin’. I can only hope he’ll like it, or whatever.”

Hajime stares at her for a few seconds before slowly nodding, a small smile appearing on his face. “Makes sense, yeah. Uh, go for it. Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

Hajime walks away, so she walks all the way to Komaeda’s cottage, knocks on the door, and shouts, “Komaeda!”

Komaeda opens it up pretty quickly– good for him. He looks kinda like a mess, but not as bad as he was when they first woke up. Not that she saw him around much, but, y’know. Least he isn’t half dead, or something like that. “Ah, hello, Owari-san. Did you need something?” he says cordially. 

In lieu of a reply, she shoves the ring in his face. “Take it.”

He looks at it, eyes wide and mouth slightly open in surprise. She waits around for a bit (jeez, people need to work on answering shit faster), and he eventually says, “… This is a wonderful gift, Owari-san, but… why?”

Well. Better just be honest. “Cuz you’re lonely as fuck, dude. And, technically I was gonna get you somethin’ else, but Hajiji thought this would suit ya better.”

“Ah. Okay.” He looks at it some more. Seriously, there’s nothing fucking interesting about that ring. “… Thank you, Owari-san. I really don’t deserve this.”

“Yeah, well, I did it. So, just take it.” Should she say something else? … Nah. Not much to say to him. “Uh, see you around, or somethin’.”

He echoes, “Or something,” and smiles. It doesn’t look as freaky as normal. “Goodbye, Owari-san.”

“Yeah. Bye.” 

He closes the door.

Well. She grins a bit to herself. That wasn’t… that bad.


	3. [naegiri] "i got you your favourite"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested by celestial_nova (except, i did the wrong prompt because i hardly know how to read. she assured me it's okay.)

there aren’t many ways to coax kyoko into talking, when she’s too silent, when she’s alone in her room with all the lights off.

makoto’s tried. he’s mentally ran through all the ways to comfort someone, before realizing that… not a lot works for her. the best thing, it seems, is just… silence, but he’s not very good at that. if it’s for her, of course, he’ll do it, but… silence usually means he’ll overthink. and then he’ll start crying– and it’s selfish, right? to do that when kyoko’s upset?

and, he doesn’t even know if she’s upset. she’s always quiet. always keeps to herself. and really, it’s perfectly understandable that after everything, she would be even more quiet. more reserved. more likely to keep to herself and keep people out. but… but…!

he’s worried. he’s really, really worried.

one day, he wakes up and can tell it’s one of those days. they still share a bed, sometimes, even though kyoko locks him out of the room, even though makoto leaves a lot of mess in it, when he’s pacing and stressed and busy. he can just feel it, can tell by the way she faces the wall and doesn’t say good morning… 

… so he pulls himself out of bed. starts his day with a warm shower and some too-sweet coffee. and, he leaves a sticky note, saying he’s going to the store. he doesn’t expect her to see it, but… just in case. 

he leaves, walks through the town that’s been overrun with despair, just far enough away from most of the calamity that the two of them are safe (supposedly. it’s hard to be safe, these days). he stops by the grocery store, looks for all the stuff they need, and… stops by the chocolate aisle.

not for himself. he doesn’t care much about it, anymore. but… for her. 

quietly, he drops a bar of dark chocolate into his basket, and he goes to the self checkout machine that only sort of works.

he goes home, then, thoughts agitated. he still keeps a smile on his face, though. doesn’t want to show too much. doesn’t want to worry the pedestrians whose eyes skip over him, because they shouldn’t really care. they’re strangers, and… he can’t trust anyone. in any case, he smiles and the basket weighs heavy with the metaphorical burden the chocolate bar poses.

he goes home, all the lights off from where he left it, and the sticky note is in the same place. in sluggish motions, he takes out everything, puts them where they belong, locks the door again and again until he feels completely safe, and then he stalls for a bit. turns the tv on, immediately clicks it off. makes himself a sandwich until he realizes he doesn’t really want one.

there aren’t many ways to stall.

so, he goes to kyoko’s room.

she’s still in the same place, blankets tucked around her, but undeniably awake. if he focuses too hard, he can see that her gloves are off, and it makes his heart ache. he tries to ignore it, look over it like the pedestrians– and he loves her, it’s just hard when it’s like this– and he lightly shakes her shoulder. “kiri,” he almost pleads.

she doesn’t reply. he sighs, slips the chocolate bar out of his hand and sets it in front of her, curling her fingers around it. then, he sits back, untenses just a bit. “i got you your favourite,” he whispers. 

… 

for a while, she says nothing, hardly moves, and he almost gives up.

but, slowly, she starts to sit up, her lavender strands covering her face as she opens up the chocolate bar. it’s not the best breakfast, and she knows that, but they hardly care. he knocks his temple against hers, and if he focuses hard, he can see a hint of warmth in her expression. 

and maybe they don’t leave that bed for a few hours, even when the chocolate is gone, but he doesn’t care. because she’s here, with him, and that’s all he needs.


	4. [komahina] "shit, i didn't mean to say that."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested by riptidecosplay!

Hinata thinks he might tear his hair out if this argument goes _any fucking longer_.

The thing is. Hinata isn’t argumentative. He’s abrasive, sure, and blunt, but he’s become more of a passive force than anything after the Neo World Program (blame Kamukura for that). He swallows down all his resentment, tries to keep himself from getting pissed off, and overall does the most he can to avoid conflict. He usually ends up breaking it up, actually. 

That being said.

Him and Komaeda have not spent one _fucking_ day together in the past week without arguing.

Maybe it’s because of the test results Hinata and Tsumiki ran that show that Komaeda, in fact, still has frontotemporal dementia and lymphoma. Maybe it’s because Komaeda was a bit _too_ happy to hear that. Maybe it’s because Komaeda is actively avoiding his medication unless Hinata is there, staring him down and waiting for him to dry swallow it (and sometimes, he chokes, because he never accepts the water bottle Hinata hands him). Maybe it’s because Komaeda is kind of insanely fucking concerning.

Oh, or maybe it’s the fact that he’s implied that he’s the sole reason Hinata has emotional issues as well as hinted at the fact that he’s deeply in love with him, and he’s offered _no_ elaboration on either of those things.

Regardless, he’s not exactly been doing wonders for Hinata’s blood pressure.

It starts like this. “Komaeda,” Hinata asks carefully, almost pleasantly if not for the hint of annoyance in his voice. “Where are your antidepressants?”

Komaeda shrugs with a wonderful smile on his face. “Ah, I apologize. It appears I have misplaced it. I’m awfully forgetful, really.” He leans forward, just a bit, and his irises glint dangerously. “Must be the dementia, I suppose.”

It escalates to _this_. “Why the _fuck_ are you so _adamant_ about _neglecting_ _yourself_?”

“There’s no point in postponing the inevitable, Hinata-kun,” he replies. “Even an ex-reserve like you can understand that, right? Or maybe I should ask Kamukura-kun… he’s never been as _idealistic_ as you.”

“It’s not-” he takes a deep breath. “It’s not _idealistic_ for me to want you to take your _fucking_ medication. I’m very, _very_ aware of what might happen, Komaeda-” _and it’s been haunting me for a while_ , “-but skipping your meds isn’t doing me, or you, any favors.”

“Oh, I don’t know. It’s cathartic, to see Hinata-kun so riled up.”

“I’m not-” he cuts that train of thought off. There’s no point in denying how pissed off he is. “Okay. Fine. What can I do to get you to take the medicine.”

Komaeda hums, his smile widening. “Well, you could always order me to do it.”

“We’re _not_ doing that shit again,” Hinata refutes darkly.

“‘We?’” he echoes. “Do you even remember Towa, Hinata-kun? Or, is Kamukura-kun speaking right now? I’ve never heard him swear before, but I understand that I can be an aggravating person. There have been plenty of times I’ve _wanted_ him to swear, actually.” Komaeda laughs, then, suddenly. “It’s interesting, Hinata-kun, that my memories are more _clear_ than yours.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Hinata does not want to go into that, right now. “Just. Shut the fuck up.”

“Is that an order?” Komaeda asks in a tone that is almost as playful as it is irritating.

Hinata runs his hand through his hair. “Just. Take your medicine, okay?”

“You never answered me,” he points out. “The order, I mean. It would be so _easy_ , Hinata-kun. I’d do it in a heartbeat.” Something flickers in his eyes. “I’d do _anything_ for you.”

That’s what breaks him, in the end.

“Oh my fucking God,” Hinata blurts out, “I really wish I never woke you up.”

He tenses after half a second.

Fuck.

Komaeda’s expression hardly changes, aside from a brief flicker in his smile and his eyes being obscured in some… dim sheen. His hands still rest in his lap, and there’s hardly a tremor, there, but Hinata knows him well (or so he likes to think). He can tell that it hurt. That Komaeda would rather die than show him that. That Komaeda… isn’t going to forget it.

_Fuck_. 

“Shit,” he says just as impulsively as before, “I didn’t mean to say that.”

“It really is okay, Hinata-kun!” Komaeda reassures. “I’m glad you were honest!”

He feels sick. “That wasn’t honest, Komaeda. I don’t think that.” Komaeda looks at him skeptically, and he _hates_ the defensive instinct, the pit in his stomach. “I’m glad you’re awake. I’m… really, really glad, actually.” Now that he’s switched to this… tender sort of tone, he can’t really stop. He doesn’t want to, even if the other is staring at him in a way that hurts. “I’m sorry I’m so agitated all the time, but… it’s good. That you’re alive. You know that, right?” He wants to pull his gaze away, but an irrational part of him is scared to look away from the other, scared that he’ll disappear. “I’m glad you’re alive.”

“…Why?”

Hinata blinks, and in the short time it takes to do that, Komaeda’s already taken it back. “Ah, nevermind. Please forget I said that, Hinata-kun. It really would be so impertinent if you didn’t.”

(It’s not the first time Hinata has been completely rendered unable to respond by some situation Komaeda is affiliated with. It’s… also not the first time Hinata has been emotional, even if there’s little logic behind it, over something like that.)

He moves to sit beside Komaeda, and the other accommodates him. The mattress squeaks, slightly, at the weight, and he makes a note to fix it. He fixates on that, for a moment, while Komaeda sits at his side quietly. They’re used to this, a kind of quiet that follows an argument, a calm before the storm.

So, that’s why it shakes him. When Komaeda starts to laugh.

He turns to look at him, but the other won’t meet his eyes. His entire body is shaking with laughter, but he isn’t smiling brightly, not really, and he looks scarily vulnerable because of it. Hinata opens his mouth to say something, to ask if he’s okay, but he shuts it, instead wrapping his arm around Komaeda’s waist tightly, in a shallow hope to keep him grounding. 

Normally Komaeda would push him away, but this time, he leans into it, tucking his face into Hinata’s neck and letting out something that sounds like a strangled sob. Hinata just stares at the ceiling, runs his fingers up and down the other’s waist, waiting for it to stop.

When it ends, it’s less a conclusion and more a simmering falling-action. Komaeda doesn’t move, just falls limp in Hinata’s grasp, and he whispers, “I’m sorry,” so quietly that Hinata almost misses it. 

He shakes his head. “It’s okay, Komaeda.” He tugs him closer. “You’re okay.”

And, part of him wants to press. Wants to know exactly what set him off (if it was a domino effect from what he said, or moreso an instant thing). But, he knows that Komaeda can hardly think, right now. Because, sometimes this happens, and sometimes it takes a while for Komaeda to be able to even put phrases together, aside from that damning, repetitive apology. And… Hinata doesn’t have to know what caused it, even though he wants to, right now. He can wait for Komaeda.

(He hopes the other knows that he’s always waited. That he would do it again, in a heartbeat. Even if it meant staring at a pod, looking at a comatose body, near-tears waiting for him to open his eyes.)

Komaeda lets out another sort-of-sob, moves so close that Hinata instinctually wants to push him away, but he doesn’t. Komaeda needs him right now, even if it’s in a fucked-up indirect sort of way. And… Hinata needs him, too.

And they can wait.


	5. [kuzusouda] “that was up there with some of the stupidest shit you’ve ever done.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested by t3ntacat!

Kuzuryuu’s morning starts off fantastically, with his best friend Hinata knocking on his cottage door at four in the fucking morning. 

That’s actually the first thing he says, to him. Well, rephrased. Basically, he opens the door and says, “Why the fuck did you knock on my door at four in the fuckin’ morning?”

Hinata stares at him, and deadpans, “Souda blew up a car.”

The first thought that crosses through his head is, _Damn, Hinata’s gotten better at the deadpan thing_. The second thought is, _Hey, what the fuck?_ He doesn’t voice any of these thoughts, in the end, and bolts out of his room shirtless in some random direction. 

He realizes he doesn’t know where he’s going, but before he can turn around and ask, Hinata helpfully supplies, “Beach.”

“Thanks.” After he tosses that stray comment over his shoulder, he’s back to running.

_Holy fucking shit, Souda’s a dumbass._

-/-

“You’re a dumbass.”

“I know!” Souda groans, covering his face with his hands. “I’m tellin’ you, that wasn’t supposed to happen!”

“Yeah, no shit.” Kuzuryuu leans back on his hands, looking over at the other with a scowl still on his face. “I’ve been in a car before, Souda, I know that it’s not supposed to blow itself to pieces.” Because, it literally blew itself into fucking pieces. It’s some kind of weird-ass miracle that Souda didn’t get hit with the worst of it. Though, he still has some burns that Kuzuryuu needs to take him to Tsumiki for, but maybe when it’s not four in the fucking morning.

Because, oh yeah! It’s four in the fucking morning, and his sort-of boyfriend blew up a car. Where did he even get a car? Why do they have a car on an island? They don’t have roads, what the fuck? Kuzuryuu needs to ask Hinata for a more updated tour of these islands.

“Look, man,” Souda turns to face him with teary eyes. “I’m sorry I fucked it up.”

Ah, damn. He didn’t want to make Souda cry. He awkwardly leans over and squeezes his shoulder, looking him in the eyes. “Hey. It’s okay. I don’t give a shit about the car– though that was up there with some of the stupidest shit you’ve ever done-” Not helpful, Kuzuryuu, not helpful, “-I was more. Worried about you. Y’know.”

Souda gives him a flustered grin. “You were worried about me?”

Well. At least he isn’t crying. “Yeah, but if anybody asks, it was the car.”

He nods seriously. “It was the car.”

“Yeah.” For a couple seconds, they sit in silence, which is nice and all (especially when Souda moves to sort of cuddle him– shut up, don’t look at him like that. He’s allowed to be gay and shit.), but he still has a lot of questions. “Yo, where did you even _get_ the car?”

“I was with Komaeda-”

“So, a lucky find.”

“Yeah!”

Kuzuryuu rubs his eyes. “Fuckin’ hell.”

… Why does he like this guy so fucking much, again?


	6. [komahina] “in my defense, i was left unsupervised.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested by anon!

“Nagito, what did you do?” is the first thing Hinata Hajime says, as he steps into a house that smells distinctly of smoke. 

From somewhere in the house, he can hear Komaeda frantically say, “It’s okay! Nothing too bad happened, haha!”

Hinata sighs and steps into the kitchen. He takes in the very distinct scent of burning, as well as the charred fish and rice, with a sigh. After living with Komaeda for eight, bordering on nine, years, he’s figured out that this is just par for the course. Luck, or general lack of teaching in the culinary field, usually means that Hinata has to make most of their food. 

Apparently, Komaeda attempted to cook again. And here they are.

He rubs at his eyes, slightly irritated but more so concerned at his husband, trying to conceal his coughs in the corner. He approaches him and sets a gentle hand on his back, his voice a soft murmur as he says, “You okay?”

“Yup,” he hums. “I really wanted to make you dinner, though…”

That’s sweet. It’d be sweeter if it didn’t smell disastrous in the room, but. “I mean. You can do it some other time?”

“Yes, but,” he pouts a bit. “You got a pay raise a week ago, and we spent time together but I never did anything for you.”

Oh. That’s really sweet. Hinata kisses his husband quickly, and says when he pulls back, “It’s alright, Nagito. Don’t worry about it.” Komaeda gives him a smile back, pecks his lips again before turning his attention to the burnt food. Hinata follows his gaze, and blurts out, “How did you fuck up rice and fish?”

“I’m not as much of a culinary expert as you, Hajime,” he retorts, but it’s with a somewhat mischievous grin. “And, in my defense, I was left unsupervised.”

“Oh my God.” Hinata rolls his eyes as he drags the trash bin over, scraping the unsalvageable food in the rubbish. He did try to taste some of the fish, while Komaeda looked at him in vague concern, and… yeah, that was not one of his greatest ideas. After he has it cleaned up, and the other starts working through the dishes, he wraps his arms around him and says, “You’re a bastard of a husband and I love you.”

“You’re a culinary expert of a husband and I love you too,” he teases back.

“Glad we have that established.”

“Mhm.”

Hinata stretches and opens the fridge. “Jesus Christ, we need to get groceries.”

“I can do it as penance,” Komaeda offers.

“You don’t need to do any penance, and I’m going to do it just to prove that.”

He smiles wider. “You have work tomorrow.”

“Goddammit.”

Komaeda laughs happily, and it makes it worth it (in the sappiest way possible). “I’ll get them. But, um, what do we want to have for dinner?”

He shrugs. “I’ll just order pizza.”

“Mm. Nutritious.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Komaeda shuts off the faucet and leans over to kiss his cheek. “You love me,” he says as he sees a blush flare up on Hinata’s cheeks.

“I do.” He really should grab his phone, now, but he instead stands in the kitchen (that still smells of smoke) with his husband, leaning against each other and offering small gestures of affection. Because, hey, who said domesticity had to be typical. In… any sense, really. “Hey, please never try to make me dinner again.”

Komaeda nods with a bright smile. “Of course, Hajime.”

(He does it again the next day.)


	7. [kamukoma] "do not touch that."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested by another loooooovely anon!

Living in the same place as Kamukura tends to leave him a bit… antsy.

Not that he’s unsatisfied, of course! He’s endlessly grateful that the other has allowed him a place in his home (however temporary it may be, considering how eluding the Future Foundation results in them bouncing between places, from barely-livable constructs to full-on intact houses), and even more grateful that he trusts him enough to see him at his most vulnerable.

Which would be sleeping. Or showering. But, Servant is usually around him during that, and nothing bad has happened. He could try and stab Kamukura, of course, but even in his most vulnerable state, he is stronger than Servant. Quicker than Servant.

He always would be.

In any case, he tends to be very… scattered. Impertinent. Antsy. All not-exact synonyms to describe how much he paces, or how he excessively cleans, or how much he looks around. Specifically, looking around at the things Kamukura has (because, Servant has very little to his name. All he really has is Kamukura, actually. Which is interesting, considering Kamukura is the one who was left Servant, like some kind of sick inheritance that left the perfect individual with a horrible, disgusting piece of trash). 

Which, of course, is absolutely heinous of him, and Kamukura really _should_ just go ahead and kill him, but! Servant has never been a good companion (and subtly, he shifts the blame onto the other, as if to justify his own means, another Macbeth, another-).

Kamukura is out when Servant carefully walks to his makeshift office. It’s not _really_ an office, since it’s composed of a dark oak table, a computer, and a pen (which has been used as a weapon, before); yet, it’s the closest thing they’ll get to a study. Servant carefully walks in, leaves the door open (it squeaks, sometimes) and glances over at the computer screen.

It’s open, with an inbox empty aside from a single recent email. There’s nothing in the subject line, and the email sending it is unfamiliar. _rynashi@gmail.com_. Hm. That’s… interesting.

Especially considering that, from what he can see in the preview of the message, it’s written exactly like Enoshima Junko would speak.

He makes a move to click on it, but he suddenly feels a grip on his wrist, throwing his hand off of the computer. He stumbles, ineptitude combined with weak balance, and only barely manages to stabilize himself before he falls on the floor. Kamukura looks at him with eyes that are as empty as ever, aside from a slight sheen over them, as he commands, “Do _not_ touch that.”

“Ah.” Servant laughs uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, Kamukura-kun.”

“You are not,” he retorts, as blunt as ever. He reaches over to turn off the computer, and Servant watches the monitor flicker, once, before it turns black. Kamukura turns around and leaves the room, and while Servant itches to turn on the computer again, he knows that Kamukura will not be as lenient on him a second time.

So, he laughs more to himself, and follows Kamukura out of the room. He really is so insolent.


	8. [komahina] “i refuse to let you talk about yourself like that!”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested by songoftheforest32!

komaeda’s been acting off, today. 

which. is kind of a difficult thing to gauge. because, komaeda isn’t exactly made up of typical human behaviors, and it’s pretty difficult to track whether or not he’s perfectly content or deeply unsettled (and sometimes, it’s both.) so, when something seems just a bit _wrong_ with how komaeda acts, hinata usually shrugs it off, selfish as it may be, to focus on other things. things that are a bit easier to understand.

(easier to fix, maybe. though, komaeda doesn’t really need to be fixed. people aren’t things to be fixed.

… 

people attempted to fix hinata, once.)

but, today, his worry seems a bit more… present. because, him and komaeda have been walking around the islands, and the only words spoken the entire time are hinata making notes to himself aloud, and komaeda nodding along. because, there are repairs that need to be done on the island, and it’s not like komaeda would be all that interested in it, but he came along anyway. even if he hasn’t said anything.

(repairs can be fixed. people can’t.)

and, hinata never knows how to breach this kind of topic with komaeda. because, komaeda tends to deflect, turn hinata’s words against him, and that’s how a lot of their arguments start, actually. so, when komaeda’s upset, hinata doesn’t say a word. he doesn’t even know _how_ to comfort him, really.

but. maybe there’s some impulsivity in the island breeze, because he feels… oddly inclined to say something. so, without giving komaeda a glance or indication that he’s going to talk, he asks, “everything alright?”

komaeda _jumps_ , which is another sign that something is off. usually, komaeda doesn’t… react at unpredictability. he seems to expect it, really, because sometimes kamukura will bring something up out of nowhere, and komaeda will just hum and nod along. hinata’s done it plenty, too, aside from this occurrence, and he almost seems to await it.

so, the fact that he flinched _now_ is suspicious.

he regains control of himself pretty quickly and, with a smile, says, “ah, of course, hinata-kun! are you?” he pauses after asking, then clarifies, “alright, that is.”

“yeah,” he says honestly, “i’m alright.” _worried, but alright._ “you’ve been quiet, today.”

komaeda bites his lip. “oh. i’m sorry, i really should be offering _some_ kind of entertainment, since hinata-kun was so considerate to invite me to walk with him, haha.”

“that’s,” hinata swallows, “not what i meant?”

“i’m s-”

“i’m just. worried about you, komaeda.” he tries to deliver it casually, but he can tell from one look at komaeda’s expression that it had a different sort of impact on the other. “i’m just worried.”

“ah,” komaeda’s lip curls up. “well. hinata-kun really _shouldn’t_ worry about someone as worthless as i am-”

“komaeda.”

“-i really am less than dirt, making someone as _wonderful_ and _perfect_ as him worry about _me_ ,” he continues cheerfully.

hinata stops walking, turns to look at the other. “kom-”

“honestly, i don’t understand how you tolerate being in my disgusting, wretched, heinous, horrible, repulsive presence, haha! if i were you, i would drown me in the ocean– we are on a beach, after all– and finally be rid of hearing my scratchy, ugly voice! wouldn’t that be wonderful, hinata-kun? you would finally get the peace you des-!”

“komaeda, i refuse to let you talk about yourself like that!” he interrupts, watching as komaeda’s eyes widen slightly. he huffs, running his hands through his hair, and elaborates, “i don’t think you’re disgusting. or wretched, or heinous, or horrible, or repulsive, or ugly. i actually _like_ being around you and i’ve _told you_ i find you pretty, for fuck’s sake.” it’s not exactly like komaeda believed him back then, either. “i worry about everyone on the island, the repairs that we have yet to do, the mainland itself, and you. i can multitask.”

komaeda shakes his head. “you shouldn’t have to.”

“what if i _want_ to care about you, komaeda?” he asks, and komaeda’s smile falls apart more than it already has. “would you let me?”

“i really should not be given any power to influence what decisions hinata-kun chooses to make,” he says, almost coldly. “if hinata-kun… wants to care about me… then i cannot oppose him.”

“we don’t-” he tugs at his own hair, just a bit. “we don’t have the power dynamics going on anymore. you know that, right? even back in towa, kamukura viewed you as way more important than you ever viewed yourself.” part of his brain hurts at the mention, but he shoves it aside. “like, you’re allowed to have an opinion. i’m not going to get pissed at you for _having an opinion._ ”

“you should,” he whispers, and it’s surprisingly meek.

“yeah, well, it’s not really about what i should or shouldn’t do. like, i- i know that none of this is actually going to get through to you, because i don’t expect any of it to, but can you _please_ try to believe that you aren’t as disgusting as you think you are?”

for a while, komaeda doesn’t answer, and hinata waits patiently for him to. when it starts to seem like he’s not going to say anything at all, he still waits, because he knows that sometimes, it takes a while for words to register to komaeda. he does speak, eventually, and every word seems carefully thought out, “i… don’t have any reason to believe it…” he takes a deep breath, “but… if hinata-kun wants me to… i’ll try. for him.”

hinata almost wants to insist, again, that this isn’t about _him_ , that komaeda should try and do these things for himself. but, he doesn’t want to push the other too far, especially since it already seems like he had to overcome something in himself to even promise that. hinata reaches out and squeezes komaeda’s hand, taking it in his as he starts walking again. “cool. thank you.”

komaeda nods, laughs a bit in a surprisingly genuine way. “of course, hinata-kun.”

and as they’re walking, he can feel komaeda squeeze his hand back, and it just _barely_ justifies the wide grin that spreads across his face. 


	9. [kamukoma] "i would run out of breath trying to describe all the reasons i love you."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested by anon!

sometimes, they have moments of rest.

not often. it’s rare enough that servant writes it off as a stroke of good luck, colored amber (the best luck he’s received, to date) and nothing more, nothing less. it’s a privilege, it’s divine, and it’s endlessly more than he deserves (when he is nothing but ash, kamukura is a ultraviolet flame). but, because he’s selfish, he’ll wrap himself up in it, soak it in, and hope it never ends.

kamukura seems to like it, too.

but, kamukura never really seems to like anything. so maybe it’s just wishful thinking, because, servant can’t allow himself to like something if his master doesn’t. he can hardly fathom the terrifying possibility of being an annoyance to him– a genuine, consuming annoyance– so he has to hope that the other likes this. likes curling up against him, tucking servant under his chin with his back against the wall. a place where kamukura almost protects him, subconsciously (or maybe that’s selfishness, too).

it’s in the quiet intimacy of this that servant feels compelled to say things. dangerous things. he’s reckless in honesty, set on destroying the calm he’s been selflessly bestowed, destroying it in his palm (her palm; but kamukura has only ever held _his_ hand). in the limelight of seven pm, the sun already burning and blistering into nothing outside, he whispers, “i would run out of breath trying to describe all the reasons i love you.”

kamukura nods, says, “i am aware.” because, it’s always been easy for him (it’s always been difficult. servant struggles to understand how kamukura became who he is. he’s brilliant and hopeful and beautiful, he’s everything that servant has ever worshipped and more, but he’s wrapped in obscuring shrouds of nihilism and boredom. so, it’s not easy for him, maybe). 

servant moves closer, can feel the noir strands brush his cheek as if it’s a part of him (as if he could ever be pieces of kamukura’s shadow, as if he’s worth that). “i mean it,” he insists. “everything i have ever done has been in devotion of you. worship of you.” and that isn’t exactly true, because he used to worship someone before kamukura, but… he carefully tucks _her_ arm in the sunken part of the mattress. “you’re my god, kamukura-kun.”

“i know.”

for a moment, he wavers, hearing the emotionless tone in kamukura’s voice, _knowing_ he should not expect much out of him. he sighs, a small puff of air against the other’s suit jacket, the fabric high quality and he almost wants to ask _where did you get this?_

before he can speak, though, he feels kamukura pull him closer, impossibly close (and it feels like they’re intertwined completely) and servant can feel a kiss against his head (or maybe he’s just dreaming) and kamukura’s fingers idly stroke his waist (which is understandable) and and and-

he breathes again when kamukura repeats, “i know.”

when he closes his eyes, he sees constellations in the outline of them.


	10. [tenmiu] "please, open the door."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested by lesbianimeme!

Miu has no idea what time it is.

Like, okay, she checked. But the fucking florescent lights on her watch burned her retinas in this room (which is dark as shit, mind you), so she hardly even processed what kind of bullshit numbers came up. And, like, even if she did, she doesn’t give that much of a shit, y’know? She’s busy, and sure it might be bordering on 50-ish hours without sleep, but that’s nobody’s business but her own.

(And her girlfriend. Who would lose her shit if she realized how little Miu is sleeping. She probably already has lost her shit, and Miu just forgot, because she can’t exactly remember anything when she’s so fucking tired.)

But, again! Who gives a shit? Literally, who cares? Miu is doing incredible things (gorgeous girl genius, remember it), and maybe it’s taking a toll on her mental health, but fuck that, that’s just bullshit Bakamatsu tells her when she’s ‘concerned’ or whatever. Because, Miu is fine, she’s just creating shit and hard work takes time (and talent), for fuck’s sake!

And it’s totally not like she’s trying to justify that to herself, or anything, by-the-fucking-way. She’s not trying to be all stupid and shit and convince herself of anything, because she’s right and everything’s cool. Even if things only feel cool when she’s creating, because she’s objectively useless when she isn’t working her ass into the ground, surrounded by endless piles of schematics and a bunch of tissue boxes (for her eyes, jesus!) as she tries to get a hold of herself before she drowns in a shit ton of robotic parts.

… Fuck.

Well. Who gives a shit? Nobody gives a fuck! She can keep doing whatever she fucking pleases, in her little office, at ass-o-clock AM-

She jumps when she hears the machine she’s making buzz really fucking loudly. Jesus fucking Christ. It doesn’t do it again, thank God, but it’s probably loud enough for her girlfriend to march on over and piss all over it (metaphorically). Thank fucking God. 

Well, whatever, she deserves it. For being careless and emotional and all that bullshit.

But, like, if anybody asks, Tenko’s voice saying, “Miu-chan…?” _totally_ didn’t make her want to cry, because Miu doesn’t cry. She’s the gorgeous girl genius, the most productive inventor she knows (and the sexiest, too!) and she isn’t, like, sappy and shit over her girlfriend. Not that being sappy is _bad_ , but… ugh. Ugh. Nevermind! Forget it!

“Hey, babe,” is her totally smooth and sexy reply, even though her eyes sting like a bitch and she kind of wants to cry like a loser (because she doesn’t cry! She doesn’t! Okay. She cried once because Ouma pulled some shit, but she didn’t cry any other time! Okay! She didn’t!)

Tenko clears her throat, just a bit, though it’s kind of muffled through the door. “ _Please_ open the door.”

Ugh. She sounds so nice and wonderful and sweet and worried and Miu just wants to hold her in her arms (but she would deny that if anybody asked because fuck vulnerability, it’s never helped her out). But, she also doesn’t want to invite her in, because fuck vulnerability, it’s never helped her out, and also… seeing her girlfriend would probably tip her over the edge she did not realize she was teetering on.

Fuck this. 

…

Fuck it. “Sure.”

Tenko opens the door carefully, shutting it behind her, and immediately sits in Miu’s lap. It’s kind of just… a common thing they do, because Tenko is really big on small physical gestures of affection, like playing with Miu’s hair (which she’s doing now), and Miu… has a lap. And a girlfriend. (And maybe she likes physical affection but shut up, no she doesn’t.)

“Um…” Tenko starts, and Miu lets out a small sigh. “Sorry! But… Miu-chan should sleep.”

“Nah.” She considers just dropping it off there, like some shitty blue balls or something, but she elaborates just a bit. “Gotta finish this.”

“… Tenko thinks that Miu-chan is more important than an invention.”

Well. She’s got her there. “Yeah, but. This one can like. Help people.”

“But… Miu-chan helps me?”

“Uh. Well, yeah. But.” She takes a deep breath. “Tenko, I don’t think you get what I’m saying.”

Tenko shakes her head enthusiastically (and almost knocks herself off of Miu’s lap, Jesus Christ). “No, no! Tenko understands what you’re saying! I just think that Miu-chan should rest. She, um, hasn’t been sleeping.”

Miu takes one long look at her machine. Though she tries to ignore it, there’s a thought in the back of her head saying that if she leaves her invention behind now, she’ll be a failure. Which, like. Is totally fair. But also, if she doesn’t go, she’ll just fail Tenko. But. Maybe it wouldn’t be failing Tenko. Maybe Tenko actually gives a shit about her feelings. Wow, Miu, astronomical concept! Who’s the gorgeous girl genius now?

… Yikes. 

“Miu-chan?”

“Yeah, uh.” She hastily turns off the machine. Fuck it. “Let’s get some fucking rest.”

Tenko does a mini cheer to herself, which is really cute. “Thank you! I love you!”

After hesitating for half a second, Miu leans forward to kiss Tenko. She watches a blush flare up on the other’s face, and she kind of snickers to herself before she lightly moves her off her lap and stands up. “Love you too, dumbass.”

Well. She’ll get some sweet time in bed (the sleeping kind), and she can just. Finish it tomorrow. Yeah. That’s good.

(She can’t help but be disappointed in herself, still, in all the quiet moments where Tenko isn’t cuddling up against her.)


	11. [kuzuhina] “do you not have better things to be doing?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested by jagopolis!

Kuzuryuu doesn’t trust Hinata.

Which, maybe is a shitty thing to say, and it might be just a bit inaccurate. Back in the Neo World Program, trusting Hinata was the way that they pulled through all those trials, because Hinata led them to the right answer and Hinata sort of knew what he was doing. Even after the Program, all the survivors have decisively looked to Hinata as a leader, since he now has the capabilities of Kamukura plus his general empathy and rationality. 

So. Kuzuryuu trusts Hinata.

But, he doesn’t trust him on one specific thing. One vital fucking thing. One thing that earns him a lot of flack himself _from_ Hinata. 

And that’s why he’s heaving himself at three in the fucking morning out of bed, because he heard some vague cussing and the sound of something dropping, and he _knows_ it’s him. Owari doesn’t fuck around with machinery, only getting up early to train or whatever. Sonia sleeps in just a bit and stays up later, finding it safer to be her own bodyguard than let anybody else do it. Souda would make a _lot_ more noise if he tried to be inconspicuous,

and all the others are shut up in a fucking pod. 

So it has to be Hinata.

He yawns as he leaves the cottage. He’s always been an alert kind of guy, but the thudding noise had to be pretty loud to get him out of fucking bed. Which meant something’s up. And, since it’s Hinata, it probably means he tried to do some shit on his own again.

And that’s the fucking thing about Hinata, right? He _never_ lets anybody else touch his projects. Sure, he’ll keep Owari company, survey shit with Sonia, help Souda on whatever shit he’s doing– but he doesn’t let the others in. And, fucking hell, Kuzuryuu _gets that._

Which is why he walks out of his cottage to find him, which doesn’t take too long, because the bastard is in front of his own cottage for some fucking reason. 

Before Kuzuryuu can get any closer, Hinata says in a cordial, calm voice, “Hey, Kuzuryuu.”

He still jumps, just a bit, because _Jesus_ that’s kind of freaky, how he can just… but, over time, Kuzuryuu’s gotten more used to it. So, it doesn’t take all that long before he replies, “What the fuck are you doing?”

Hinata shrugs. “Dismantling my door. Sorry if it made a loud noise.”

Oh, of fucking course. Hinata’s dismantling a _door_ at three in the fucking morning. Spectacular. His mental health _must_ be really off the fucking marks, for him to be doing this shit. Give him just a bit, and he’ll probably be studying the hell out of Tanaka’s door, or something.

… Huh.

He crouches down beside him, his voice still betraying soft hostility as he continues, “Do you not have better things to be doing?” _Like fucking sleeping._

The bastard just shrugs again. “No, not really. I can’t do much, right now, without waking everyone up.”

“So,” Kuzuryuu takes a deep breath, “why don’t you go to bed?”

“Well. I’ve tried that.”

Okay. Fair play, Hinata.

He rubs at his eyes. “Alright, but can you… stop dismantling your door? Why are you even doing that, the fuck? Like, I get keeping your hands busy and shit, but is it. Not just gonna create a bigger shitshow of a mess?”

“I mean,” and fuck him for sounding so rational, despite everything, “I could just. Clean it up after?”

“Motherfucker,” he mumbles under his breath. “Alright. Do you want to…” hm. How does he go about asking his best friend who he may have feelings for, at this point, because this isn’t exactly the first time he’s left bed to do this shit, or offered what he’s about to offer, to… “like, come to my cottage or something? So you could try and sleep?”

Hinata’s expression changes slightly– and thank God for that, because at this rate Kuzuryuu was convinced he just went full Kamukura, at three in the fucking morning. “I don’t think being in your cottage is going to cure my insomnia, Kuzuryuu.”

“Okay, yeah, fair enough, point to you, _but_ -” he sighs. Time to fuck things up, probably. “Honestly? It sucks that you do this shit to yourself. Like,” he waves his hands at their surroundings, which isn’t exactly a great explanation, but Hinata follows along. “You’ve done this before. And, this is the first time you’re dismantling a door, but seriously, Hinata. What the fuck.”

“I’m fine, Kuzuryuu,” he replies, and that bastard is _not_ gonna get away with that.

“You aren’t. ‘Fine’ people,” he says with exaggerated air quotes, “don’t pull this shit.”

“Nobody on this island is fine. I _know_ that.”

And maybe Kuzuryuu is looking too far into it, but he can hear the vague hints of Hinata blaming himself. His head turning as he thinks, _none of this would have happened if I didn’t volunteer for a lobotomy with literally no information going into it, which is definitely not my fault but I’m Hinata Hajime so I’ll blame myself for it fucking anyway._ And. 

Like.

What is Kuzuryuu supposed to say to that?

Apparently, literally nothing, because Hinata just sighs and drops the door. Like, literally drops it. So it makes a loud noise, but he doesn’t even wince. He shoots Kuzuryuu a tired smile and says, “You win. Let’s have a sleepover, or whatever.”

“That’s so fucking lame, Hinata.”

His smile widens, just a bit. “Yeah? Yeah, that’s fair, honestly.”

So, they leave the motherfucking door behind, and happy ever after. 

(Except. Obviously not. Because next time, it isn’t a door. It’s the fucking pods again, and Kuzuryuu can’t even stop him because he’s too much of a fucking coward, and that time, Hinata’s the one to show up to his door. Hinata’s the one who asks him to stay. And Hinata’s the one who falls asleep, first, after everything.)


	12. [ishimaru & komaeda] "you must be freezing! here, take this!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested by anon!

Hope’s Peak Academy really looks beautiful like this. With the snow gently dusting the rooftop, glistening white on the pavement and neatly-trimmed grass, an almost ethereal sight created by the appearance of snow, effervescently welcomed upon the miraculous campus. It is difficult to see through half-closed yet worshipping eyes, certainly, but the way that the frost falls upon Hope’s Peak steals his breath.

Of course, he is aware of his place. A blight like him– worthless, disgusting, and undeserving– is out of place in such a beautiful scene. But, he cannot help but stare in wonder as, while the world sleeps around him, the hope of the school never ceases.

He is alone, out here, because it is just late enough for those staying up late– to study, for the reserves and dedicated, or due to insomnia– to likely fall asleep, but early enough that the sun has yet to rise. Though, when the sun rises against this unearthly scene, it will be beautiful. His eyes might just sear from his overwhelming incredulation, that such a place exists. That he, no matter how useless he may be, is still privy to this sight.

It truly is such good, perfect luck, that he is here.

This good luck is, of course, offset by the shivers that plague his body, the settling feeling that might later fester into hypothermia. A numbing chill has found place in his skin, welcomed by the little clothes he is wearing to prepare for the frigid temperatures, only donning his school uniform. Perhaps he should have draped his worn olive jacket on his shoulders as well, but…

… dying, even to the cold, at such a beautiful sight would be more than he deserves. Endlessly more than he deserves.

And yet, from behind him, he can hear footsteps in the snow. He takes careful time to study the sound of his classmates’ gait (which he would not consider obsessive, just… observant), and he can distinguish that what he hears is startlingly unfamiliar. He briefly entertains the concept that it is a reserve, but he swallows that fear, hoping that no reserve would be impertinent enough to impose themselves on the scene, like he himself has.

This is further quelled, because the voice he hears is far too assertive, a whisper-like yell of, “What are you doing? This behavior is not acceptable!”

He turns around to see the stranger, and quickly recognizes him. He’s an underclassmen, though only by a year, enrolled as the Ultimate Moral Compass. His hope shines brightly through his regulations, his words, his strict rigor, and his insistence on good behavior. It’s an honor to be in his presence, though stating such would not answer his question. “Ah, I apologize, um, Ishimaru-kun? I was merely admiring the beautiful sight of Hope’s Peak– though I apologize, I know that someone as disgusting as me should not be allowed to admire such a scene.”

Ishimaru’s eyes widen, just slightly. “Please do not call yourself disgusting! However, it is not appropriate for a student to be out at such an hour!”

“Ah, my apologies. I understand it is dreadfully incorrigible of me, but I would like to stay up until sunrise. I will make sure to sleep in, I promise.” The last part is a lie (which is horrible, to lie to an Ultimate, much less the Ultimate Moral Compass. A sick caliber of irony), but… what the other doesn’t know can’t hurt, he supposes.

“Well, if you promise to sleep in…” he trails off, but then his eyes widen again. “You are not wearing a jacket!”

He almost forgot it was frigid outside, as his body adjusts and becomes numb to the scathing cold. “I… apologize?” He doesn’t mean for it to sound like a question, but before he can rectify his error, a shiver overwhelms his body, teeth slightly clattering together.

Truly, such horrible luck.

The expression on the other’s face borders on droll. In the short time it takes to blink, Ishimaru has taken off his jacket and handed it to the other. “You must be freezing! Here, take this.”

He shakes his head and laughs quietly to himself. “Hah, Ishimaru-kun, this is a wonderful gift, but I wouldn’t dare burden you by allowing your precious jacket to touch someone as filthy as me, haha.”

Ishimaru’s eyes soften. “What is your name?”

After briefly debating the result of replying, I am not worth being remembered, he decides to be honest (though, both options would be honest) and answers, “Komaeda Nagito.”

“Oh! You are the Ultimate Lucky Student of your year!”

He bites his lip. “Yes, I suppose I am.”

For a moment, there is a pause, and he debates turning back to face the sight of the school again. Before he does, however, Ishimaru thrusts his jacket toward him again. “Please, take my jacket! I will allow you to stay outside, though… that is not… appropriate behavior…” he seems to hesitate, but he brightens again, “You seem to be a respectable student, though, so I suppose I can allow it to slide!”

Haha. He is far from respectable, but he appreciates it regardless. “Ah, thank you.” He grips the jacket with tentative fingers, sliding it around him. Oh. That really is much warmer. “I appreciate it, Ishimaru-kun.”

“Of course, Komaeda-kun!” he beams, “I will see you around!”

He waits for Ishimaru to disappear from sight before murmuring a quiet, “See you.” He looks towards the building, and he can see light beginning to peek through on the horizon behind it. Subtly, he clutches the jacket closer, a small smile on his face.

It really is such good luck.


	13. [mioda/owari/nanami] "it feels like home here." + "do not touch that."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested by anon!

The three of them have been living together since April.

Chiaki can still vaguely remember the day they moved in together (sometimes, her memories are washed away in a sleepy has. Important ones, though, usually stay, probably). Ibuki was enthusiastically carrying most of the boxes, even though her strength modifier was only +1, and she happily sang and cheered as they moved every bit of their possessions in. Akane helped set up most of the furniture, listening to Ibuki ramble about all the colors they could paint the wall to make it _pop_ , and Chiaki tiredly unboxed most of the items while listening to her girlfriends talk.

It was exhausting, a different kind of exhausting than what Chiaki usually feels. A lot of labor (and maybe some emotional stuff, too), but in the end the apartment looked pretty okay. There was still stuff to do and a main quest to beat, but they waved it off until tomorrow, curling up on a couch they barely fit on.

Chiaki can remember, before she fell asleep, Akane whispering, “It feels like home here,” in such a genuine, unexpected way (Akane usually didn’t admit that kind of stuff).

She remembers smiling.

Now, it’s been a couple of months. The domestic bliss of it all hasn’t fully washed out, but things are just a bit more chaotic. Which, the three of them all are chaotic in their own ways, so really that should be expected. They almost burn the kitchen, once, because Ibuki managed to really mess up toast, but after that they just learn… to keep her from the toaster. Another incident happens when Akane manages to accidentally knock over a shelf while trying to navigate around the house at three am without a little Navi to light her way. And again, when Chiaki lets a stray cat into the house and it tears into the couch. That was a bit of a yikes, definitely.

Just… small things. Which comes with living together, she thinks. It’s still nice, even when stuff does happen. Because, Ibuki and Akane make things nice.

And she’s happy to be here, probably.

–/–

She wakes up from sleeping on the couch to hear her girlfriends in the kitchen. With a small yawn, she padded into the room, waving a small hello and starting to make coffee (with a lot of sugar) while Ibuki wraps her arms around her. “Gooooooood nom-nom-noming!”

“It’s one in the afternoon, I think,” she replies, but she does puff out her cheeks and blush a bit when Ibuki kisses her temple. 

Akane reaches over to squeeze her shoulder, too, maybe a bit too hard, but Chiaki can take it. “Spent too long on the stream, didn’tcha?”

“Mhm…”

Ibuki lets out a cute squeaking noise that she makes when she’s excited, sometimes. “Well, then Ibuki will make Chi breakfast!” she proclaims loudly, grabbing a slice of bread and some jam. It’s strawberry, Chiaki thinks. She likes jam.

Ibuki starts fiddling with the toaster, though, so Chiaki has to cut through her sleepiness to say, “Do not touch that. I think.” Which, it makes Akane laugh a bit, so that’s nice. She likes hearing her laugh, maybe.

“But Chi!” Ibuki pouts, but still steps aside to let Akane take over. “You’re bullying me.”

“Mm. Probably.”

But laughter fills the tiny room, and Chiaki’s heart warms, like when she beats a really hard boss and feels content. Yup, it really does feel like home, here. Even if they are all sort of disasters.


	14. [saihara & hinata] "they're better off without me, i know they are."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested by glowmaeda!

saihara wonders why he keeps seeking hinata out, when he knows it’ll end in something like this.

it’s cathartic, in a way. having something to focus on that isn’t all the buzz and simmer of real life (though, that’s usually what they talk about. acquaintances in misery. maybe someday, friends). saihara likes studying people, and… hinata’s an interesting person. to observe, that is. he doesn’t know if that’s a weird sentiment, so he never says it.

he thinks hinata knows.

sometimes, hinata is really closed off. he doesn’t say anything about himself, just angrily stares at the world as if his issues will be fixed, before he inevitably leaves to go to work (even though he’s going the wrong direction to the cafe). sometimes, when saihara asks him to say something, to be honest about how he’s feeling, he’ll just get more pissed off, turning and looking at the other with a certain glint in his eye,

and saihara usually ends up spilling. and, hinata’s nice, then. hinata’s comforting usually, with his kind of blunt honesty and his warm hugs. it just sucks. knowing that hinata is this empathetic sort of person, but he gets _so_ _tired_ , and he kind of just becomes this mess of platitudes and exhaustion. and sometimes, he seems like an asshole. he probably thinks he’s an asshole.

(saihara… doesn’t really see it. but hinata would probably punch him, if he tried to say that.)

the thing is. sometimes, hinata’s really blunt. saihara will barely say hello and he’s just laying out his issues, talking about whatever goes on at home, or how _maybe_ he has an alcohol problem, or how him and his boyfriend are in an endless loop trying to get the other in therapy at the cost of themselves. and he never really states things with the nuance saihara knows it has. he doesn’t really have to. it’s more complicated than _i think he’s trying to move out_ but,

what can saihara say? 

it’s not even like he knows hinata’s life or the people in it. just the parts that’s killing him, that have been killing him forever. saihara could lay out a perfect map of the rise and fall of hinata’s depression (or the lack thereof, because it’s pretty… stagnant. nothing like saihara’s highs and lows. both damning) but he couldn’t say a word of hinata’s parents. are they even alive?

in any case. sometimes, hinata gets really blunt. so when saihara comes and sits on the shitty picnic blanket the other has laid out, the first words hinata says is, “my friend gave me this.”

saihara nods. “ah, okay.”

“like.” he runs his hands through his hair, which is not the best start. “she wants to have picnics with our friend group and everything. and she wanted to have one, like, yesterday or something. but i didn’t go. i don’t know why i didn’t go. maybe cuz… anyway.” it’s more home stuff, then. that’s… usually how hinata handles it, when it is. “but i said something about hanging out with a friend today to her, or something, and she said i could take the blanket. and, like, isn’t that fucked? just a bit?”

saihara’s still thinking about the friend part of that, even when he shouldn’t be. “i mean, maybe? ah, i don’t want to overstep, but i think it’s just a, um, nice gesture on her part. maybe there’s some emotional significance to you?”

“well, no shit.” hinata drinks from his water bottle. it seems like it’s just orange juice, this time, from the fruity scent. which is unexpected, but nice. “like, the fact that she’s doing something nice, for me, is the problem, right? all of my friends are nice to me, but,” he sighs, and it’s weighed down by exhaustion, “they’re better off without me, i know they are.”

and, saihara is so, so tempted to call him a hypocrite. because, when saihara says those things, hinata gets passionate, saying that everyone always thinks they’re worthless when they aren’t (or maybe everyone is just hinata’s boyfriend. he’s never very clear about it). but, he knows that hinata probably hates to admit it. that he doesn’t want to think that– and nobody does, but hinata rips himself to shreds in a way that saihara can’t keep up with, every beat and every step he takes consuming him, eating away at his core, leaving him as nothing even when he has to be something– so calling him a hypocrite… wouldn’t help.

so he just nods. “ah.”

“i mean, i don’t know what my boyfriend would do without me. because we have the whole… whatever you called it.”

“codependency?”

“yeah.” he laughs bitterly. “codependency.” 

“that’s not healthy, and-” he’s quick to continue, before hinata can sigh again, as if they’re running out of time when they have nothing but time, “-and i know that you know that, but. you really should get a therapist, or talk to him about it.”

“we don’t have-” money. “-y’know. like, if i tell him i need it, he’s going to lose his shit trying to make it work, and i can’t let him do that. he’ll fucking take on three jobs just so i can make it work, and it, i know i’ve never exactly told you about that or whatever, but i can’t let him do that. like, all i fucking want, all i have ever fucking wanted, is for both of us to get some meds or some shit, and for things to be okay. because- because it’s good a lot of the time. it’s just, some of the time it isn’t.”

“are you sure it’s not reversed?” saihara presses. “it… it seems like it’s bad all of the time.”

hinata scoffs, “well, there’s no point in talking to you about the time we made lemon squares. or his birthday. or, like, everything. there’s just… no point in everything,” and that’s a startling word association, but saihara rolls with it. “there just. isn’t. and, like, i’m sorry for spilling this much, but also i’m not sorry. i just… fucking, pity myself. and isn’t that shitty?”

“yeah.” saihara fiddles with his hat. “it’s really shitty.”

“fuck,” hinata mutters. “ _fuck_.” 

“fuck everything,” saihara says quietly.

hinata nods. “fuck everything.”

and that’s always how it ends.


	15. [enoshima & komaeda] “do you not have better things to be doing?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested by anon!

komaeda’s afternoons are a mixed bag of wherever luck takes him.

sometimes, he goes to class, when he wakes up in the headspace to focus, to learn, to pay tribute to those who constructed this hopeful school. the history of hope’s peak always fascinates him, but then he has weeks of tripping on his way to classes– he takes it as a subtle sign to refrain. sometimes, he stays in his dorm, reading through shakespearean plays into the late evening, leaving small annotations in post-it notes (he has to return it to the library, later) and analyzing the characters to death (because oh, their deaths are beautiful). sometimes he wanders campus, or watches the ultimate gardener tend to plants from a distance, or test his luck for the adrenaline rush.

today, it’s the latter. 

the grounds of hope’s peak are kept, meaning that the fields of green grass are properly trimmed, occasionally gone through and weeded, and the sun shines on them all (though, maybe that isn’t something the school can play a hand in. though, hope can do anything). he sits just far enough from the courtyard to be somewhat inconspicuous, yet he must stick out like a sore thumb to _some_ people, an ugly presence sitting on the hill, picking clovers.

unsurprisingly, every clover he picks, eyes closed, are four leaf clovers. it’s not logically possible, but nothing involving his luck is. and it almost fuels a desperation, a visceral sort of rush, as he keeps picking them, but all of them have four leaves.

when he opens his eyes, all he can see are three leaf clovers, two leaf clovers. he doesn’t understand it.

he stays there, though, picking them and inspecting the grounds after, laughing to himself in a scratchy, crackling voice. it escalates into a wheeze, loud enough that he doesn’t hear the footsteps approaching him. he _does_ hear, to his credit, the assertive voice from behind him, saying, “do you _not_ have better things to be doing?”

he just smiles as enoshima junko sits beside him, her nose wrinkling as small hints of chlorophyll get on her jeans. her strawberry blonde hair is in a ponytail and she’s wearing sunglasses, which seems a bit extra but, it’s not exactly like komaeda can complain, with two coats of sunscreen slathered on his skin. 

(she does look very pretty, though, which makes sense. the ultimate fashionista has to look pretty often, of course. it’s a wonder how she spends time with someone as ugly as him, but he supposes she may just take pity on him. he wouldn’t blame her for it.)

“hello, enoshima-san,” he greets cordially. “and, not really, no.”

“jeez,” she huffs under her breath. “you look like a total fuckin’ loser, sitting out here, picking fuckin’ clovers.” her tone switches to something more aggressive, which he expects. she’s a fairly erratic person, after all, and rather eccentric. it’s not like he’s any different. “the sun’s gonna burn you to a fuckin’ crisp!”

“are you concerned?” his smile widens as he yanks out another clover. this one has three leaves. that tends to happen, when he’s around the other.

given, he’s not near her a lot. they aren’t exactly friends– he doesn’t have friends– but she talks to him sometimes when she gets bored. she’s sometimes a bit obnoxious, loud and saturated and everything, but he can sense something in her, something _incredible_. he doesn’t know what it is, doesn’t know what about her saccharine words gives it off, but he _has_ to see what she does. it’s _intoxicating_ , the potential she has. 

she rolls her eyes. “pfft, pfft, as fuckin’ if.” her expression seems to wilt, though, and she pouts. “ah, it’s almost despairing, seeing you out here, all alone…” hands on her knees, leaning forward with a cutesy face, “isn’t that right, komaeda-senpai? c’mon, tell me tell me tell me!” 

he carefully plucks one of the leaves of the three leaf clover. with the same persistence, if it can even be _considered_ that, he ignores the choice of the word ‘despairing’. “i suppose.”

“you’re so fuckin’ boring, god. i’m bored bored bored bored! ultimate boredom!” she rambles, and he takes it as white noise, closing his eyes and managing to pull out a five-leaf clover. he frowns, picks one of the leaves off. luck, but forced. artificial.

he drops it, and looks at his chlorophyll covered fingers as enoshima gets up and starts doing backflips, complaining about how _exciting_ it would be to break her hip and see all the tabloids.

(there’s something about her, something he doesn’t know, yet. but he’ll find out. he will.

even if it’s leaf by leaf.)


	16. [komahina] “that was up there with some of the stupidest shit you’ve ever done.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested by space-james!

When Komaeda placed himself there, in a warehouse that loomed in the back of his eyes, his body throbbing with the agony of what he had done to himself as a spear hung dangerously above his abdomen,

he had been prepared to die. 

When he heard someone approaching the warehouse, he expected a grand cacophony, footsteps thumping as they released the poison, the traitor stained a vivid fuchsia as his world faded to black. He hung on for them, allowing their hope (despair, despair, despair, an encore) to take his life, even when the blood loss started to get to him. When he heard someone approaching the warehouse, he expected his life of miserable luck and tumultuous pain to end, to leave him at peace, even after _everything_. 

He had expected to die, craved to know what would come of it (because he wouldn’t know, in his death, but he would like to imagine that he would just know, even in the simmering of hell, if hope prevailed. he would just _know_.)

He had expected _everything_ ,

and yet, Hinata Hajime’s arms are tucked around him, and the spear is thrown aside.

–

When he wakes up, he feels it like a haze.

He can hear someone moving around, cursing to themselves, a familiar masculine voice (that he should hate. after everything, komaeda should hate him). He deduces in his exhausted state that he must be in Hinata’s cottage, and that the other is _agitated_ , which means that-

_dammit_. 

His plan, what he put his entire life– and everyone else’s– on the line for, has failed. All because Hinata saved him, a self righteous reserve, a stubborn protagonist, who will wrench the information out of his wretched, destroyed body and use it in trial, as if they deserve it, because they are the scum of the earth and Komaeda _already was_ but Hinata, _his_ Hinata, is a reserve course student, talentless, and-

He tries to sit up, to yell at the other, to scream _how could you save me?_ But his body fails him as it always does, and he slumps down with a pained groan, earning Hinata’s attention (how wonderful) as the other approaches and begins to fuss.

“You’re awake, thank God,” he starts, his hand placed on Komaeda’s cheek (he would spit on it, if he had the energy, to prove the point he would have died for). “I- Komaeda, you-.”

Komaeda shuts his eyes, listens to the other sigh, the rustling of his hair distant and yet still distinct. “That was up there with some of the _stupidest_ shit you’ve ever done,” is Hinata’s eloquent response to the matter, and he can hear the other get out of bed. Before he can choke out a retort– this is a mark against Hinata’s intelligence, if anything– he feels cool glass against his chapped lips. “Here.”

He almost wants to deny it, but he succumbs, drinking the water thirstily at the throes of his shame, and when he opens his eyes, Hinata’s _smiling_. It quickly fades when Komaeda manages to rasp, “Feeding me again, Hinata-kun?”

“Oh my fucking God.” Hinata takes a shaky breath, and Komaeda can see fury in his eyes (it’d almost be hopeful, if he wasn’t a fucking reserve). “You- _you_ \- you tried to fucking-”

“I know what I tried to do,” he says slowly, trying not to break on his words, “and I know that you are the reason I failed. Remarkable of a r-reserve,” he curses himself for stumbling on that, “to impose their agenda on an Ultimate.”

“Komaeda, what the _fuck_ are you trying to pull? Actually, scratch that,” and what a shame, because Komaeda had a response to that, “what _were_ you trying to do? Other than horribly mutilate yourself, of course.”

“What if that was my sole intention?”

Hinata bites his lip. “Well. I know that it _wasn’t_ , because it’s _you_. But also, if it was-”

“It wasn’t, Hinata-kun. You really need to work on your critical thinking skills.” Though it’s interesting, that Hinata knows it wasn’t a murderer. That Hinata knows that the only one cruel enough (strong enough) for it is him (maybe the two of them. they’re all killers, except the traitor, but in terms of what they remember now. maybe hinata has it in him to kill. maybe he’s strong enough for that. maybe that’s why komaeda still l-)

“Fuck off.”

“Well, I tried.”

“That’s not,” Hinata sighs, and he slumps a bit (he seems tired. why is he tired. this is what komaeda has done to himself. this could have saved him). “Listen, Komaeda. I’m glad you’re alive, and I get that it’s probably hard to talk about it, but I really need you to stop fucking around and tell me what happened.”

Komaeda opens his mouth before closing it. He wants to grab Hinata, rip into him, tell him his intentions and see how he understands, knowing that he isn’t alone in this visceral _need_ to be better. Part of him that suppresses itself underneath the chase after hope rises in the back of his mind, on the tips of his fingers, and he so desperately wants to not be _alone_ , wants to find the traitor with someone else that understands, that would give themselves up, too, for this cause.

He looks at Hinata. It can’t be him.

(so why does he want that so bad?)

Something in Hinata’s features soften, and Komaeda almost hopes it’s realization (he shouldn’t hope. needs to save it for humanity, not the horseman of the end). “It’s okay, K- Nagito.” (fuck him for it fuck him fuck him fuck) “Uh. I’ll stay here, if that’s fine?” (maybe his arms would feel like hope after everything, the scorching pink blood. isn’t that what you want?) “I think you should get some more rest, lay low for a few days.” (we’re running out of time, hajime, can’t you see?) “Okay?”

(he falls.) “Okay.”

When he shuts his eyes that nice, all he can hear is laughter like summertime and the ripping of knives that taste so, so familiar. (maybe he’s done this before, too.)


	17. [kaemiurumi] "get your ass over here before i drag you here myself."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested by inky-da-dinky!

For as long as Kaede’s known Kirumi, she’s been a workaholic.

Which makes sense! She’s the Ultimate Maid, so it tracks that she’s a little bit of a busy bee, but sometimes, she gets really immersed in her work, and Kaede hardly sees her. Which kind of sucks, because Kaede is dating her (as well as her other girlfriend, Miu), but it’s just a sort of thing they compromise on. Kirumi views cleaning and working as cathartic, but she also makes sure to spend time with her girlfriends.

So, it works out nicely, Kaede thinks!

The thing is, sometimes Kirumi finds her work calming, but other times, it serves to be more of a distraction. Kaede’s kind of good at picking up on that shift– rare, but important. Kirumi has a certain kind of concentration face, for example, but when she’s upset and throws herself at her work to keep busy, it shifts from dedicated (eyebrows furrowed and eyes glimmering) to stressed (lips pressed together and hands quivering, ever so slightly). She never avoids Miu or Kaede, except when she’s upset, and she always does the most repetitive of tasks when it’s just to stay busy.

There are signs, definitely. But Kirumi herself never really addresses when she’s upset, because she hardly ever confides in people and shows no interest in wanting to. Which is totally valid! Kaede gets that, in a way, though she has gotten a bit better at being more open, and she knows that Miu has experienced a bit of it, too. They all help each other out, in whatever form it takes,

but when Kirumi won’t let them help out at all, that’s when Kaede gets a bit concerned.

She’s sitting on the piano, one day, when Kirumi enters the room, cleaning the windows with a peculiar kind of vigor. Kaede calls out a sweet, “Hi! Whatcha up to?” which, given, is a bit of a dumb question, but either way, she doesn’t get a reply.

She frowns, just a bit. That doesn’t usually happen. 

But, she doesn’t want to press super hard, because maybe Kirumi is just preoccupied. So, she returns to scribbling in sheet music (which, she can sight read pretty well, but she may as well make it a bit easier for herself by putting in some measure numbers and sharps) and tries not to think about it.

It doesn’t take super long for Miu to walk in, Kirumi still cleaning and Kaede still scribbling. She welcomes them with a loud and proud, “What’s up, bitches?” which makes Kaede sit up and give her a slightly scorning look while Kirumi… still doesn’t reply.

Miu nudges Kaede over and sits on the piano bench beside her, allowing the pianist to crawl into her lap. The inventor persists, “Kirumi, you good, or like…?”

No response, but Kaede can see her grip on the sponge tightening. 

One last time, Miu pushes with a loud sigh. “Get your ass over here before I drag you here myself.”

“Miu,” Kaede warns, but to her surprise (and Miu’s, judging by the expression on her face), Kirumi slowly drops the sponge onto the floor– hardwood, they can clean it later– and turns around to look at them. Her face is dark and her hands are still shaking, and it’s Kaede who beckons her over this time with a passive, “Hey, are you okay?”

“… I am quite well,” Kirumi lies, and typically she is a good liar, but it’s clearly transparent, now, that it’s false. 

Miu seems to bite back a comment, calling her out on her lie, and instead suggests, “Uh, want to ditch cleaning for a sec and cuddle us? Like, I get it, that cleaning is cathartic, but I feel like you aren’t super soothed right now, so. Maybe we can chat about it, or whatever.” It’s not very gentle and not fully comforting, but it’s not forced, either. 

Kirumi shakes her head, slightly, but she’s already beginning to approach them. “I should be working.”

“Do you want to work right now, Kirumi?” Kaede asks.

“… No,” Kirumi admits, and it’s startlingly honest. “But I should. I typically do.”

“But you don’t right now,” the pianist emphasizes, standing up from the bench. Miu follows her movements. “Which is okay. Don’t push yourself.”

“…Very well,” and Kirumi allows herself to get pulled into an embrace.

Kaede squeezes her waist, burying her face in her shoulder and smelling the soft scent of fresh laundry. “C’mon, let’s sit down, okay?” she says, leading the other towards the living room couch, letting her sit down before cuddling against her side.

Kirumi doesn’t talk about it, even when they’re curled together, and neither of them press her to. They let her sort out her thoughts as they hold her, and she ends up relaxing in the embrace, seeming a bit re-energized.

Miu’s the one to propose, “We should take a nap, or something,” and Kirumi is the first one out, surprisingly, her head tucked into Kaede’s shoulder and her breaths quiet. Miu and Kaede follow soon after, holding her tight through sleep.

(In the morning, there’s a soft smile on Kirumi’s face as she cleans, and Kaede watches her from the piano again, happy to see her wonderful girlfriend content.)

**Author's Note:**

> hi! 
> 
> my requests are currently closed, but i wanted to publish all the stuff i did in this period of time! i'll definitely do this again in the future; this was so so so super fun! i hope you enjoy :D


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